With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your par — Ilsa Bick
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With no sense of smell, your memories dropped like pennies out of a ripped pocket, until the past was ashes and your parents were blanks: nothing more than the holes in Swiss cheese.

— Ilsa Bick
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More “Grief in chains” Quotes

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